


Whiskey and Kisses

by EclecticAce



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fem!Solo - Character - Freeform, Female Napoleon, Past Relationship(s), Song fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-14 19:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18058334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticAce/pseuds/EclecticAce
Summary: Song Fic based off Canadian/New Zealand based singer Tami Neilson's song "Whiskey and Kisses". Fabulous song that deserves a listen. It's a song about a past relationship and two people that can't let go.





	Whiskey and Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Written to help with horrible writers block. Unbetaed.

Whiskey and Kisses

Natalie's short, but perfectly manicured nails tapped the warped wood of the bar top as she feigned thinking about the offer presented to her by the man in the suit beside her. His glorious crystal blue eyes sharpened with his smirk as she continued tapping. She could tell he knew her tell. He wouldn't still be standing where he was, if he didn't know the outcome.

But this had always been her favourite part of the chase. And of course, she was a little rusty. The practise would do her good. 

Both his eyes and smirk blossomed as soon as she finally nodded with a nonchalant, "sure then, why not?"

The corner of Natalie's mouth curled into a smirk as he rolled his body towards the bar finally. She had always admired the way a well tailored suit looked on a man, the way it clung to him in all the right places - the shoulders and back in particular had always been a melting point for her. This man, she noticed, did not disappoint. Every movement of his well-formed shoulders made the suit jacket stretch perfectly across his equally as well formed back. He knocked on the side of the table top a couple times to get the bartender's attention as her eyes continued appraising the view from the back.

She had a type, and Good Lord, was he it. 

Natalie touched his forearm gently to get his attention again, once he'd passed her test, and waited till he looked back to her before speaking, "I'll take a whiskey on the rocks."

His left hand landed on the hand on his forearm for a couple pats, as he leaned into her and kissed her cheek. "Whatever you want, gorgeous." he assured her, upon pulling back. "You got it."

Her smirk lasted just long enough for him to turn back to the bar to order before it dropped away completely. Her eyes too then dropped to the muscular hand still on her arm. The pale band of skin on his ring finger told more about him than Natalie was sure she ever wanted to know.

But she quickly shook away any doubt or worry she had, knowing that, that night they were both allowed to lie.  

The drinks came fast. He handed hers off to her with a flourish and leaned in for another kiss to her cheek. His breath was hot and tingly against her cheek. "You here alone, gorgeous?"

Her laugh came easy as she nodded and threw her arm around his shoulder. "Yes, I'm here alone." Natalie tilted her head down just enough to look at him through her mascara heavy lashes, "and no, I don't want you to telephone." His eyes sharpened once more, illuminated by the knowledge of things to come. "I'm quite alright right here, aren't I?" Her chest pressed gently against his as she finally returned his affections with a kiss of her own to his lips.

The yet unnamed man let his lips ghost across hers with a breath exhale. She could feel his lips starting to form the question she knew was coming next, but quickly stopped him before he started and pulled away.

"You can't have my number," Natalie shook her head. Her brown eyes drifted for the first time, to the lone man in the far corner before she looked back to the man in front of her and forced herself to smile, even as her stomach turned - and not with excitement. "But you can take me home."

"Mhm," he replied, placing both his hands on her his. "I though you'd never ask, gorgeous."

Natalie laughed again as his head dropped and his lips started kissing a trail along her collar bone.

Though her stomach was still in knots, Natalie knew tonight she didn't care. She knew he didn't either. They both knew how this was going to go.

He would ask questions which means she wouldn't lie. He was going to leave in the morning and she wouldn't cry.

They both wanted the same thing.

To forget about a ring of gold.

As more and more ash collected in the pressed glass ashtray to his left and the number of empty Vodka glasses mounted around him, Illya couldn't help but wonder how things had turned so violently southward.

He sat at the furthest end of the bar from the door, balanced precariously on a heavily abused bar stool; trying his damndest to keep as still as possible. Lest it protest movement and draw unwanted attention to himself. 

As the fingers of his right hand cradled his 7th cigarette of the night, the fingers of his left toyed with a piece of seemingly useless metal in the pocket of his suit jacket. The partner to it, he knew, sat on the dresser in her bedroom, forgotten.

The familiar laugh floated down the bar, burned at his eye worse than the blue smoke swirling unabated around him, and stung his cheeks like he'd just been slapped.

Maybe he had been.

Illya had taken up his seat at the far end of the bar immediately after entering and had immediately lit up the first of many cigarettes that night, just as the first of many what he preferred to call clowns, for he was sure to be entertained tonight, approached her. He knew he was here to be a viewer, only here to watch some other clown, he'd lost his right to be included, take her home.

He had come in behind her, entering 15 minutes after, as to not make it look like they'd come together - as per her request. He'd only come on her request as well, only here because she didn't want to be alone on the way home. However, Illya knew she could have easily have handled herself in any situation - UNCLE training had made that possible. But, he also knew she wouldn't have been alone at all - a companion was never going to be far behind that night. Desire masquerading as chivalry would earn her one whether she truly wanted one or not. 

Damn him and his masochistic streak.

Obviously, they'd all been asking for something. And, whatever it had been, she obviously hadn't been willing to give them.

Until she was.

This man, obviously searching for something himself that night, approached Natalie with an ease Illya had never possessed. His ash coloured hair was styled in a classic neat, short side-part and was wearing a suit that told Illya everything he need to know about the man. He obviously held a job where selling himself - presenting an idea and living it to the best of his ability, reigned supreme. And, judging by the cut and material of the suit, he was damn good at doing just that.

Natalie, for all her powers of persuasion, had probably met her match with him.

As she laughed at his jokes; the patronising tone slowly dissipating, only to be replace by a more solid earthy one that signaled her improving impression of him and increasing belief in the night ending with him and her.

He had trouble believing she no longer subscribed to the strongest of all beliefs and the one that had kept him going during all those strenuous, exhausting missions together as well as the shaky, alcohol fueled, anxiety filled nights alone - the one that was once "you and me". It had been you and me against the world, that was the saying most thrown about. If they had that, nothing else could or would touch them.

It was a shame, she'd said, after informing him that for intent and purposes "you and me" didn't exist anymore; no one to blame - of course there had been. It just all depended on whom had lost faith before whom. It's just the way that it goes - that bit had stung the most because no! It was not just the way it went. It was supposed to be them till the end. He had the rings to prove it.

It was funny, she'd never asked what he believed in. But Illya knew if she didn't ask, he'd never have to lie. A secret was something he was good at keeping. No matter how much it broke him in the end.

Natalie's laughter died down as her arms came around his neck to return the chaste kiss he'd placed on her rouged cheeks. he was sure they'd caught eyes over his shoulder, but he quickly looked away just in case. He knew she was going to leave with him that night. However, Illya also knew they'd both end up in the same places, both figuratively and literally, before the week was out to do it all over again.

In a way it was comforting. Though they were apart, the safety net for both was still there. Separate lives, but together in misery. She'd never leave, he figured, so Illya would never have to cry. Whether he'd cry Foul or Fiend, he wasn't sure yet.   

His leg started to tingle, so he shifted in his seat gently and pulled the ring from his pocket finally. She could keep the partnered ring of gold because no matter how much he believed and wanted her completely, it seemed all that she wanted was the supplied abundance of whiskey and kisses from her barroom suitors.

The small bell above the door chimed and alerted him to their exit. He was now alone in a crowded room, with only his thoughts. While she crowded into a taxi alone, with only the man.

Later, when the smoke is nearly choking him, and the vodka is going down like water, Natalie will return. He won't ask, and she won't lie. She's not leaving again, she'll assure him almost playfully, so there's he doesn't need to cry. then, as has become the normal, she'll put her left hand over his and his attention will go to her ring finger. And not for the first time she'll admit, though she loved him and wished him nothing but good things, she didn't want his ring of gold. Then, no matter how much it always stung, Illya would always vocalise his wish - that she wanted something more than this, something more than whiskey and kisses.

She'd laugh after a while, lay her head on his shoulder gently and squeeze his hand as she kissed the side of his neck. Right before whispering in a voice only he could hear over the din of the bar, that the only thing she wanted was him - his whiskey and kisses.

One day Illya would be alright with that, he always promised, even as the fingers of his free hand still played with the ring in his pocket.

 

Song and Lyrics: [Whiskey and Kisses ](https://tamineilson.bandcamp.com/track/whiskey-and-kisses)


End file.
